“Alright, Ling. This time we combed every corner like picking shells off a tide-washed beach, and we’re back.”

“The Beastfolk Elder finished the cross-check, ink drying like dusk on a ledger.”

“Most have found their families, lanterns reunited with their night.”

“The rest have accepted it—missing, or gone like candles snuffed by wind.”

Rafi lounged in her chair like a cat in a sunbeam and passed the news to Ling like a warm cup sliding across a table.

Ling caught that laziness like dew on grass and stretched wide like a waking fox.

Her body felt worn like a traveler’s boots, but her heart floated like a paper kite in a mild wind.

She figured she could keep going a little more, like pushing one more mile along a quiet road.

“Then let’s go find the Beastfolk next, Sis—can you still go?” she asked, voice soft as tea steam curling up.

Worry pricked her like a thorn on a branch; she’d enjoyed what came before, but this slightly off-kilter Alicia tugged her nerves like a compass askew.

“Ah? I’m fine,” Alicia said, closing her book like a folding wing. “If we’re visiting Beastfolk, no problem.”

Alicia reading was its own odd little rain cloud drifting in from a clear sky.

Before, books bored her stone-flat; at heart she’s a battle maniac, a blade chasing storms across the plain.

The moment they got back, she ran to Rafi and begged a tower of books, stacked like a pagoda five men tall.

Then she used who-knows-what trick and made the whole stack vanish like minnows into reeds.

Who knew why she wanted them; curiosity nipped Ling like a carp, and she skimmed two at random.

They were psychology, page after page like mirrors and mazes catching her reflection.

Was she aiming to be a therapist, giving counsel to bullied little girls, like a lantern in a storm-lit alley?

Ling shook her head like a dog shedding river water and tossed the fantasy away like a paper crane on the breeze.

It wasn’t her business; if Alicia wanted it, Ling wouldn’t block her, like a gate swung wide to moonlight.

“Alright, Sis, let’s head over,” Ling said, reaching a little paw like a kitten and clasping Alicia’s hand.

She tugged the red-haired girl from the sea of knowledge like hauling a net from the tide.

Rafi didn’t need prompting; she drifted ahead to lead, a lantern on a misted road.

——— A maiden’s brief prayer, and time flowed like a brook ———

With Rafi leading like the North Star, there were no wrong turns into a girls’ bathhouse, no wall-hops into forbidden courtyards.

The way ran smooth as a stream over pebbles, silver and sure.

A few Daemon ladies passed and bowed to Rafi, bending like reeds; Rafi returned a crisp curtsy, clean as morning frost.

Like a plum blossom in snow, Rafi looked every inch the demure lady, a grace that didn’t seem hers, which startled Ling like a sparrow on a branch.

No time to linger; no mountain switchbacks; a short walk set them where they needed to be, like stepping stones across a pond.

The Beastfolk Elder had prepared and sat by the door like a stone guardian, waiting for Ling.

As she reached the threshold, he dropped into a full kowtow, his forehead hitting the floor with a bright THUNK, ringing like a temple bell.

Ling was turning to close the door and literally hopped like a startled sparrow.

Alicia sensed her flinch like a breeze on skin and hurried to lift the Elder, hands gentle as spring rain.

The Elder tugged back and forth like a stubborn ox, then finally settled into his seat, obedient as a tied boat.

Only then did Ling sit—of course on Alicia’s lap, a pillow warm as sunlight on tatami.

“Elder… is it alright if I call you that?” Alicia asked, her tone calm as still water under moonlight.

Ling had wanted to trade verses and push up imaginary glasses like a scholar in moonlight, but Alicia stole the lead to hone her tongue like a whetstone to steel.

The Beastfolk Elder accepted the address with ease, respect blooming like a peony across his face.

“Once more, I thank Lady Ling, Lady Alicia, and Lady Rafi for your aid,” he said, relief lifting like dawn fog off the fields.

“I never thought the knot that bound us so long would finally come undone, like wet rope in sun.”

“No need to overpraise,” Alicia said, waving it off like smoke from incense. “The main credit’s Rafi; she was the thread through the whole plan.”

“No! All three of you are the ones we must thank!” the Elder said, voice firm as drumbeats on a festival night.

Even after they’d asked him not to kowtow, he started again, dragging the Beastfolk behind him like a breaking wave.

The crackle of foreheads on wood went off like New Year firecrackers, messy and loud as scattered hail.

“Elder, will you hear us out?” Alicia asked, her words falling like clear beads on a tray.

He snapped his head up like a deer at a twig-snap and panicked, as if he’d misstepped on thin ice.

“Of course! Of course! If you command it, I’d even die for it,” he said, oath heavy as iron in the hand.

“Elder, we already said—no more kowtowing,” Alicia said, a smile light as willow catkins. “One little one here doesn’t much like it.”

Ling wanted to jump in and explain she’d only been startled, not disgusted, like a cat puffing up at thunder.

But she swallowed it, letting the moment drift like a cloud, so Alicia wouldn’t lose face.

The Elder believed her at once, then whirled to snap his people upright like a commander in a storm.

He turned back and watched Alicia carefully, eyes steady as stones in a river.

Alicia nodded, a leaf-quick dip of the chin, telling him to rest easy like dusk settling on rooftops.

“Then let’s talk about our true purpose,” she said, lifting the curtain like sunrise. “It’s about the Beastfolk joining the Mystic Realm.”